


When you close your eyes

by melislostinthestars



Series: Season 4 Oneshots [1]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, Gen, Missing Scene, Post-Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-09 13:19:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19476715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melislostinthestars/pseuds/melislostinthestars
Summary: It’s all true, but conversely, it was all a lie. She’d been deceived. He was the Devil.She realizes that she’s been staring vacantly at him while he’s been talking. She forces herself to pay attention. He looks concerned, afraid.“Chloe, it’s alright. You’re safe, I promise. Just breathe, okay?”





	When you close your eyes

**Author's Note:**

> I have read so many fantastic post-season 3 reveal fics, but I never tried my hand at one.  
> After season 4, I kind of wanted to write one that fit in the middle. To give myself a little perspective on Chloe’s thought process. So here it is.

_“Reckless behavior_

_Is looking at a man_

_Like he was a savior_

_Blind leading blind_

_Everything looks darker_

_When you close your eyes”_

\-- _“The Beginning of the End”_ , Klergy & Valerie Broussard

* * *

Standing up and stepping away from Cain’s body, Lucifer turns to see Chloe entering the loft. She'd come back. _She's okay._

He breathes a sigh of relief and all the tension melts from his frame.

But something’s wrong. She _is_ tense. Frozen.

“It’s all true,” she breathes.

_It's all true?_ Oh. Pierce. Sinnerman. Dead. This looks bad. She shouldn't have to see this. She loved the man once. He steps forward to try to block the body from her view.

“Detective?”

“It’s all true,” she repeats weakly. And she staggers a half-step backwards.

He reaches out, intending to approach to steady her, to hold her again, reassure himself that she's _safe_ , she's there, she didn't die.

That's when he sees them. His hands.

He chokes on a pained noise. _No. No no no no no._ This could not be happening.

She shouldn't need to see this. This was the worst possible time. 

He closes his eyes. Takes a shuddering breath, lets it out. Draws another, smoother. And _wills_ his other face away with everything he has.

****

It's all true. He's the Devil. He's Lucifer. His father - oh God - _God_ really cast him out. He's really from Hell. He does like to punish the guilty.

Her brain can't seem to stop. She can't seem to focus. Her breaths are too quick, she's not getting enough air. Is she having a panic attack? Is she going into shock? She should do something. There's something she should be doing.

_Running_ an old instinct at the back of her mind whispers.

But she had run. She'd run here. This is where she was running. She takes a slower breath.

She was scared before, when she was… on that rooftop. She was scared because… gunshots. And truth. Truth finally breaking through. And she'd run here. To him. Her breath catches again. _Lucifer_.

****

He opens his eyes again, his hands are back to their normal pale colour and he lets out the breath he was holding. The colour has drained from Chloe’s face, and completely on instinct, he dashes softly but quickly forwards to catch her under her elbows and lower her to the steps as her knees buckle.

Realizing he just entered her personal space when she’s no doubt currently terrified of him, he backs off again, torn between wanting to give her space and helping her to calm down. She’s hyper-ventilating.

“ _Chloe_ ,” he starts, then realizes how anguished he sounds and tries for a more calming tone, “Chloe, _please_ just breathe. You’re alright. You’re okay.”

****

She vaguely realizes she’s sitting on the steps and he’s crouched in front of her. She’s not sure when he crossed the room.

He looks like himself again. And for a moment she wonders if she was just going crazy, if she only thought she saw that other face. But she sees the terror deep in his eyes, the fear at her having seen the truth under the lie. And she knows it was real. He once again looks like her Lucifer. _Her_ Lucifer? No, this is ridiculous. Her, Chloe Decker, feeling possessive of the Devil. No, not of the Devil, of the man she knew as Lucifer. But they’re not two different people. She can’t seem to wrap her brain around this. She’s finally seen the truth, but her mind is struggling to grasp it.

It’s all true.

It’s all true, but conversely, it was all a lie. She’d been deceived. He was the _Devil_. 

She realizes that she’s been staring vacantly at him while he’s been talking. She forces herself to pay attention. He looks concerned, afraid.

“Chloe, it’s alright. You’re safe, I promise. Just breathe, okay?”

His hands are raised between them, as though he’s a perp and she’d asked him to put them up. She watches them twitch with the instinct to reach for her. And part of her wants him to give in to the impulse. What is _wrong_ with her? He’s the _Devil_. She’s seeing stars.

“No, Chloe, breathe. Slowly. Like this.” He begins taking deep exaggerated breaths and she finds herself attempting to copy him without really deciding to do so. His lips tilt up in a small relieved smile. “Yes, that’s it. Just breathe. You’re doing great.”

The breathing is helping. But then he flinches, looks over his shoulder. She takes another deep breath. A moment later she hears it too. Sirens. The back-up that Dan sent. She looks around the room. Bodies. Bloody feathers. Pierce. The _Lieutenant_. What was she going to do? How was she going to explain this?

She lets out a breath slowly and dares to meet Lucifer’s eyes. He’s thinking, studying her.

“Detective, please close your eyes.”

She hesitates. “Why?” She hates how weak her voice sounds. “What are you going to do?”

He rolls one shoulder in a shrug, trying to appear casual, but ruining it when the movement causes him to flinch forward and clench his teeth with a groan.

“ _Please_. This is the only thing I’ll ask.”

She’s staring at the floor again. At the bloody feathers.

“Lucifer, the … the feathers…”

“I know, Detective. Just close your eyes and I’ll take care of it.”

No, he doesn’t know. She doesn’t mean the mess. But she realizes that if the feathers really came from where she suspects, Lucifer can’t leave them here for the forensics team to find. And they’re running out of time. So she swallows and nods and closes her eyes.

****

When he tells her she can open them again, the feathers are gone. It’s on the tip of her tongue to ask how, but she doesn’t know if she’ll be able to handle the answer right now.

Lucifer is still there, though. He waits for her to meet his eyes again.

“Detective, I am so sorry.”

She takes a breath to reply, but stops because she has no idea what to say. She wants to ask what happened. To ask why the room was dusted with bloody feathers. To ask if he’s okay. But she can’t seem to form a sentence. Can’t seem to decide which question to ask first, which answers she wants. The Devil is apologizing to her. She thinks the Devil just saved her life.

Then the police stream in.

She looks for him a few times, as the paramedics whisk her away to get checked out, and she sees him being his charming self, chatting up the officers. Spinning his tale of what happened in the loft. He looks the same as he always has. And she has to remind herself that this is an act, a lie. She wonders if he were closer, would she see the small details that betrayed his true emotions? Would she see a tightness in his shoulders or a twitching in the fingers out of sight behind his back? 

But she's not next to him, she's in the ambulance and he’s across the street, standing there at ease, speaking with the police, without anyone realizing that the literal Devil is in their midst. She can’t believe she never saw it before. How could she have gone on all this time falling for the lie? Believing it was only a façade? Only metaphors? She feels so stupid. He’d told her over and over. Told anyone who would listen that he was Lucifer Morningstar, the Lord of Hell. But he had never proved it. Never really convinced her the way he clearly was able to do today.

She closes her eyes, frustrated. What was the truth? And how is she supposed to figure it out? This is beyond her. Heaven and Hell. God and the Devil.

The stupidest thing is that she yearns to talk about this, to work through this existential crisis, with her best friend. Except her best friend turns out to be Satan himself.

She barks out an involuntary self-deprecating laugh and the paramedic examining her chest gives her a quizzical look. “Sorry, sorry, just thinking about something.”

That’s what she needs. To think. Some space and some time to think.

She was no doubt going to be put on leave after this, while the death of the Lieutenant was investigated. Maybe she’d take a vacation. Take Trixie and have some time and some space and also some distraction. She’d approach this like the detective she was. Sort out her feelings and Lucifer’s motivations. Investigate the past through this new lens.

When she was ready, she’d return.


End file.
